I was in the fourth grade when I first fell in love. It’s doubtful that it lasted very long but it seemed an aching eternity. He seemed completely oblivious to my existence, probably the major reason I had any feelings at all towards him that fourth-grade year that was so full of complexity in my tenth year of life. His name was Mike. Funny thing was, a lot of other girls in Miss Hammernick’s class were intoxicated with the mysterious Mike, who was about as short as anyone in the class and extremely skinny. Soon I would affix my affections to another Mike, an older Mike, a much handsomer Mike, a friend-of-my-brother’s Mike and therefore even more out of my league. Mike II and my brother were in seventh grade. That meant they had graduated to junior high. Exalted. Independent. Almost-high-school Mike. Tall, lean, blond-haired, freckled, soft-spoken, elegant Mike. Who never ever said a word to me no matter how many times he came over to our house to do boy stuff with my brother. At ten, I was simply “the little sister” and there was nothing about me that would have interested any boy. But I had no idea why not.